


An Unexpected Reunion

by auriadne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, is this a joke fic? maybe? if only i knew how to chill, sexy clown felix, street performers ending, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-10-21 13:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auriadne/pseuds/auriadne
Summary: Felix and Leonie set up shop in Fhirdiad, and (un)fortunately, encounter someone very familiar.In which, Sylvain is down to clown.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know, sometimes you laugh your ass off at the sheer combination of the words ‘sexy clown felix’ and other times you feel an urge to fucking commit to it. This is me committing to a travesty.  
  
(PS writing the phrase 'Sylvain is down to clown' made me cry)

Felix is practiced but natural. He moves with a finesse that gives him some of the satisfaction he once found in battle blade in hand. Except instead of soaking blood into the soil, he gets awe, applause, the heavy clang of coin tossed their way. It’s been this way for a handful of years. Since the war ended, and his sword began to rust away.

Now, he spends his nights using them to slice through objects for other’s amusement. Or as now, swallowing them in a shocking display, he’s never once feared. The gasps are amusing. Leonie can’t do this- too many nerves. It’s mostly a mental game, after all.

He pulls up, extracting the blade from his body. His tongue catches the sharp edge, tracing the flicker of the torchlight reflected in its steel. He sheathes the sword at his side, and one of the girls throws him a dagger. He catches it in his teeth.

For the first time, he looks over the crowd, and his brow furrows.

Fuck.

His teeth clamp down, and he thinks he’ll nearly bite right through the blade with the tension that strings him like a marionette. His eyes dart to the corner, to Leonie counting the tips thrown their way.

Ugh. Oblivious. Right when he needs her.

It’s fine. This is fine. He can finish the act, and pretend nothing ever happened. Convince Leonie to pack their things and move to the next town. He never has to acknowledge that two rows back in the crowd, he froze under familiar golden eyes.

His wrist twists, hurtling a dagger to the backboard. He looks back over the blank crowd of faces, hoping that it was just his imagination. Regretfully, it’s not, and even worse, their eyes meet. Both going wide in shock. There’s a rush of blood to his cheeks- hot sweat beading and smearing the streaks of kohl down his face.

Sylvain _knows. _

The dawn of realization lights up his eyes, as he pushes himself closer to the stage sparking complaints amongst the audience. As if he needs to confirm, to know for sure that the man standing if front of him, twirling daggers and swords for show, is in fact Felix Fraldarius.

Each step consumes his resolve until Felix is tossing the rest of his gear into one of the assistant’s arms, storming off the makeshift stage.

Leonie catches him by the elbow, hissing under her breath. “What the hell, Felix!”

He tears it away.

“I’m done for the night. Make something up. Illness. Injury. I don’t care.”

“You can’t leave in the middle of a set. How am I-“

“You’re resourceful. You’ll figure it out.”

She huffs.

“Whatever. Go be moody. Get it out of your system because we have an important job this week.”

She picks up the ornamental bow and firework arrows from the side of the tent and walks out to the applause of the crowd.

Felix dips past their convoy of props and staging gear to the small tent he calls his own. Eager for solitude as he strips himself of the more cumbersome parts of his costume.

The flap rustles and pulls behind him. Instinctively, he unsheathes the knife tucked in the seam of his boots. It’s pointed back, edged against the curve of the man’s neck. Blood trickles from the threat of a shallow cut.

“Hey-“ The greeting is swallowed back in hesitance.

Felix doesn’t dare look back. That voice makes Felix wish they never came to Fhirdiad.

He lets the blade clatter to the floor.

A shudder hits his body at the strong hand that latches onto his shoulder. Sylvain’s fingers dig into his terrible, showy shirt- a deep blue silk trimmed in gold. Something he wouldn’t have been caught dead near a few years ago. Now it was part of the job.

Felix refuses to raise his head. To acknowledge Sylvain.

It’s the final door, locked until their eyes meet again. In some childlike way, it allows him to pretend that this isn’t real. That Sylvain isn’t here, and the only one aware of his life is Leonie. It’s a lie, but he’d rather lie to himself than admit Sylvain watched his performance. That he’s here, in his own tent attempting to coax him into some sort of civilized conversation.

Sylvain’s palms run tender down his shoulder blades. 

“C’mon. Why’d you stop? I was enjoying the show.”

Goddess, even years later, he’s still such an ass.

He breaks every boundary Felix has carefully constructed. Coming too close, letting his words shake him with the feathered brush of lips to the shell of his ear. It sets his flesh aflame, spreading like a wildfire in a heavy flush.

Felix jerks away, and he tears his last wall down himself when he jabs a finger in Sylvain’s direction.

“_Sylvain Jose Gautier_.” He hits each syllable with equal venom. “I am going to end you.”

Sylvain shrugs, and it’s yet another cut to his ego.

“I lived this long, but if it was by your hand- it wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

Felix sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth. Frustration and embarrassment welling to the surface. Too obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.

What the hell is Sylvain doing here in Fhirdiad? A soon-to-be Margrave gallivanting with the common folk? There’s a reason he refused to let Leonie lead them north, and its standing right in front of him with the same smug air he remembers from their academy days.

“Go away. Go home. Don’t you have territory to lead?”

“You kept up with me.” His teeth flash, far too pleased at the revelation.

Felix can’t win.

He’s grown accustomed to having eyes on him, watching him slash through logs, fruit, anything Leonie chose to throw at him. To people cheering and booing and everything in between, but nothing, nothing has made him feel so vulnerable as Sylvain right now.

His costume, the heavy decorum and fanciful masks- that Leonie insists add an air of mystery to him- have always been the line. The clear separation between himself and his work. The former heir to House Fraldarius and the renowned showman and master of blades. Yet now they waver, merging to one, leaving him bare under the heated scrutiny of a man he once called his friend.

Sylvain grins, clearly amused, and leans around him to take in the depths of Felix’s new appearance.

“Who dressed you- certainly not Leonie.”

“Myself.”

Sylvain lets out a low whistle. His fingers tease at the trim lining the deep cut of fabric down his chest.

“It’s kind of risqué. Are you sure your aim is to entertain the masses- not enrapture them?”

“Not everyone’s tastes are as liberal as yours.”

“Maybe so.” Sylvain chuckles, thumbing the silk between his fingers. His eyes are honest and sentimental in a way that has Felix regretting not pushing him away earlier. “I’ve missed you, you know. I never imagined our reunion to be like this-“

This is a nightmare.

“Shut up.”

Sylvain’s hands delve deeper. His fingers tease at the expanse of skin bared beneath the cut of Felix’s shirt. He doesn’t move. He should, but doesn’t. Frozen in place yet again as he touches higher against the sharp angles of his collar. Sylvain’s head dips low, red hair falling messy into his eyes. He looks up to him, beneath thick eyelashes.

He’s pretty, and Felix is only mostly disgusted in himself for thinking it. It’s the same tactic he’s seen Sylvain use on girls many times before. How dare it work on him.

_“Only if you make me.”_

He’s flirting. Of all times, now? Felix could laugh, but instead he rips his hands away like he should have done the second Sylvain laid them on him.

This- all of this- is years too late.

“You’re coming onto me?” He shoots him an accusatory glare “Goddess, is this what gets you going? Are you that desperate? Disgusting.”

“I’m trying not to read much into it. For my own sanity.” Sylvain catches his hands. “Please, listen to me, Felix. You were gorgeous out there. The way you handle those swords-“ Felix can feel the suggestion wriggling its way under his skin. “Tell me, have you always lacked a gag reflex?”

“You-!”

“I’m kidding, Felix. _Kidding_!’

“I’ll silence you, alright.”

“Scarves. Chains. Ropes. I’m game. Do you have any escape tricks? I wouldn’t mind you trying them out on me.”

Terrible. Sylvain is absolutely terrible. And yet the exact same as when they were teenagers.

“I mean, just look at you.”

There’s an adoration across his face that Felix doesn’t remember. Something new and heavy that confounds him and leaves his stomach in twisted knots. Sylvain reaches to him. His palm, warm as it grazes his cheek, thumb dragging across Felix’s lips. The bit of lipstick that remains smears from the corner of his mouth.

“Syl-“

Felix can’t speak, not when Sylvain slips his fingers past the brief part in his lips. They drag along the point of his canines, pushing further into his mouth until they rest against his tongue. He breathes sharp through his nose, tongue moving under them without thought. He swallows, sucking around them, mouth thick with saliva, and Sylvain for once in this damned conversation is caught off guard.

_“Felix.”_

His breath hitches in a near moan. It’s infuriating. Awful being used like this. Having Sylvain watch him with such heat. Such clear desperation. The same thing he saw in those gold eyes amongst many that made him storm off the stage.

_Desire._

And at the last thought Felix bites down.

Sylvain yelps.

“Ow. Ow. Nicer, Felix. Nicer.”

“No.” He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the makeup worse with spit. He’s a fucking mess, and it’s all Sylvain’s fault. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Reaching out to an old friend? I never thought I’d see you again. _Or like this_.”

Sylvain is digging his own grave at this point.

“I’m not some novelty, Sylvain.” And before he can make another pass at him and whittle down his will, Felix shoves him out of the tent. “Get out of here. Now.”

Sylvain stumbles out in the open air of the city night. He looks offended but not deterred. Felix wouldn’t expect anything less.

“You can’t stop me from coming to your show. I’ll be there tomorrow night and every one after that!”

“Do what you will. But be sure to tip Leonie on your way out.”

* * *

Sylvain is not in the audience the next night, and Felix despises his disappointment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am i out here actually finishing fics?? who is she???

Sylvain is a distraction, even without physically being here. The aftermath of their meeting a few nights ago has left Felix’s mood sour. Even more so, since the man has been notably _absent _from their acts. Part of him is grateful not to have to face him again, yet every day when they begin to set up, he <strike>hopes</strike> wonders if he’ll show. Despite Felix’s brooding, the show must go on.

Leonie’s been pulling his weight over the past few days. He’s been surlier than usual, and she has made her disdain for his behavior abundantly clear.

Tonight, they have yet another show. Leonie is onstage while Felix lingers at the sidelines. The stars are obscured by the rolling of clouds. It looks like it might rain.

Leonie shouts to the crowd, “For our next performance we’ll need some audience participation!”

She gestures to the audience. Felix is hardly paying attention. He’s running through the motions, letting her take over the majority of his acts.

“I volunteer.” A man’s voice echoes from the crowd, and it makes Felix tense up. His head snaps. Leonie is staring straight at him.

_Sylvain._

Felix shakes his head and mouth the word ‘no’.

Which she completely ignores.

Sylvain steps onto the stage with a goofy grin. He might be rapt in the attention of the audience, but Felix can sense him watching from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not one to shy from a little danger.”

“Great!” Leonie says with acted enthusiasm.

Felix is trying his best to blend in with the props, slowly slinking his way backstage, unfruitfully, of course.

“_Felix!”_ She says between clenched teeth and motions toward the stage. “Get over here.”

He groans. She’s really going to make him deal with this, isn’t she? How cruel.

He trudges on stage with little enthusiasm. Leonie blanches. “Try to smile. You look pissed off.” She whispers in a hush, still maintaining the crowd.

She pushes Sylvain towards him, and Felix smiles, an awful, fake grin that’s more awkward than anything.

Leonie sighs, and Sylvain scratches the back of his head.

He leads him to the back of the stage, hissing under his breath when he’s out of Leonie’s earshot. “What are you trying to prove?”

“That I’m serious. Sorry about before. I’ll keep my promises better in the future.”

Felix scoffs. 

“Stand against the wall. Arms up.” He pulls the restraints across Sylvain’s wrists. It’s obvious his attention is focused on him, but Felix ignores it.

“She’s going to shoot arrows at you. Don’t move, and you’ll be fine.” He says a matter of fact as if this was any other day with any other person. It’s not and pretending that isn’t the case is futile, especially with Sylvain saying things like-

“I’d rather it was you.”

“You- what? Want me to throw daggers at you?”

“Exciting, right?” Felix fastens the restraints with a sharp tug. Sylvain winces, but it doesn’t stop his grin. “_Ooh tight, Felix_.”

He winks. Sylvain fucking winks at him. By the Goddess, he’s going to get through tonight.

Is there nothing that can deter this man? Actually, given all the years he’s known him- not much. Even flirting with death at Lord Gwendal’s hand didn’t stop him.

“If this is some kind of fantasy of yours-“

“It’s your act, isn’t it? She’s only taking over temporarily or am I wrong?”

Of course, he’s right. But he’s acting like he’s not the root of the problem.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Come on, I missed it the other night. Or can you not do it?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Oh, I can do it.”

And Sylvain grins.

“Show me.”

It’s a childish game, one that Felix easily allows himself to fall for. If only to make Sylvain eat his words, and if he misses, well, call it divine punishment.

“Leonie. Change of plans.”

* * *

This is one hell of a trust exercise. Felix thinks tossing the familiar weight of the show daggers in hand.

Sylvain is unmoved and unwavering in his confidence. A typical, cocky smirk twitches at his lips. Should he be flattered that Sylvain believes in his abilities enough to put his neck on the line, or irritated that he doesn’t even see him as a threat?

Well, he’ll see.

Felix slings the first blade. Sylvain’s breath catches in the seconds the blade is airborne. It hits fast embedding in the wood a few inches under the crook of his arm. The breath he’s held releases at the thud of the dagger hitting the board. The tension leaves in a heave of his chest.

Felix’s eyes narrow when he lobs another one. He could do this blind folded the number of times he’s completed this act over the past year. Though, not with Sylvain as his volunteer. Not with the way he licks his lips, eyes glued to his from across the stage, shifting in the restraints that hold him back.

Goddess, its like he’s getting off on this. Knowing Sylvain, he probably is.

It’s odd. Felix thinks he should be more put off by this. Instead, he feels strange.

It’s like he’s in a fishbowl. The murmur of the crowd and Leonie’s voice are waterlogged behind him.

The only things he hears are the sound of his own blood pumping through his body. The leather restraints that creak with every pull and tug of Sylvain’s arms after each throw. The visceral noises and stilted breaths extracted from the man in front of him with the building tension and release. The shock and nerves he holds back beneath a cocky smile.

Felix wants to wipe it clean off, to hear a truly honest reaction not any of this façade bullshit he wears each day. He wants to see Sylvain break down.

Felix swallows, face heating at the thought.

What is he thinking?

He huffs, nose scrunching. He flings another dagger, offloading his frustration into the throw.

It hits closer, a breadth away from the curve of Sylvain’s neck.

His brows shoot up with a gasp drawn from his lips; face flushed pretty. Felix bites his tongue to stifle whatever he’s feeling. It’s worse now. The tension palpable as if it is pulled so taut it threatens to snap under the slightest pressure.

Thunder cracks in the distance, and it brings him back to reality.

“Apologies. Due to the storm, we’ll have to shorten the show for tonight, but don’t worry, we’ll be in Fhirdiad for the next week. Catch us again if the weather permits.”

There are a few boos and disappointed huffs as the crowd begins to disperse. Felix is still staring straight at Sylvain. Sylvain’s mouth parts forming words he can’t hear. He shakes his head, leaving the stage.

He didn’t expect Sylvain to catch up so soon considering he was tied to the wall. Leonie must be working against him. What was she thinking letting Sylvain on stage? Freeing him to follow Felix like a lost puppy?

“That was-“

Sylvain pants when he finally catches up. He’s slightly out of breath, pupils blown a little wider than usual. Definitely aroused.

Shit.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?”

Felix swallows. Suddenly the stiffness of his costume is too constricting.

“No.” _He did_. “Unlike you I don’t get off on things this weird.” _Apparently, he does_.

“Don’t be a prude.”

“Hmph.” Felix walks away.

“Felix, Felix, _Felix.” _Sylvain follows as he cuts a corner backstage.

Lightning strikes in the distance, flashing light across the sky. Felix feels the first drop of rain against his face.

He skids to a stop, and Sylvain runs full force into him. He whips around so fast that Sylvain is still stammering back from the collision. He’s confused, startled. An expression so earnest it almost makes him an honest man. Felix could laugh, but his voice is caught in his throat, restrained by the same thing that makes his blood run hot.

All the disdain he held before morphs into something he’d rather restrain. He shouldn’t be happy Sylvain is here. This is a mess. Embarrassing. Shameful that he’s caught up in something a silly as lo-

No, he’s not going there. Can’t give Sylvain the satisfaction.

The sky opens up while they’re frozen in place. The rainfall cuts through him. Cold, soaking through his clothes. Felix wipes the water from his eyes, smearing eyeliner across his face and on the back of his hand.

Sylvain catches it in his own.

Felix looks up, and the air is punched out of him the moment Sylvain kisses him.

It’s slow, tentative. Sylvain is giving him an out. Room to shove him away, bite out some cruel dishonest insult and move on with their lives.

He doesn’t.

He lets him hold his hand, warm, close to his chest. His heart hammers, brain hazy in the moment. He toes himself to full height, catching Sylvain’s mouth fully against his own. Too damn tall, he thinks, resorting to fisting the front of Sylvain’s shirt, twisting his knuckles in the fabric and yanking it down.

“Oof-“

Felix has never been great with words. He’s a man of action, so action it is.

Teeth nip at Sylvain’s lips, tongue tracing the lines of reddened skin. His knee slots easily between Sylvain’s thighs, against a hardness Felix knows he’s had since being bound. Hands tear through the back of his hair with a ferocity he thought himself no longer capable of.

“Woah-“ A wet moan is dragged across his lips. It tastes of fresh rain and bergamot.

“Wha-?”

A throat clears behind him, sending a shiver up his spine. Felix’s head snaps instinctively, and he groans, face heating up like a flash fire.

Leonie’s arms are crossed, a miraculous combination of disgruntled and entirely disinterested. Her eyes roll. “Get a room. PDA isn’t part of our production.”

“You started this.” He manages only just starting to extract himself from Sylvain who is not bothered in the least by this. Rather he appears amused. That insufferable exhibitionist.

“I would’ve waited longer if I knew you two were still back here. Its pouring. Couldn’t you wait five minutes to get into each other’s pants?”

“It’s been three years.” Sylvain supplies.

“I’m happy for you, but I could have lived a lifetime without seeing my business partner tongue battling his childhood friend.”

Ugh. This is so fucking embarrassing. She’s never going to let him forget it either. Sylvain laughs. His hair sticks to his forehead in clumps of wavy curls.

“Don’t catch a cold. I still expect you at showtime… regardless of what state you’re in.” She says with a side eye before waving them off and making a quick escape.

Sylvain shoots him a goofy grin. “Don’t catch a cold, Felix.” He parrots. “_Want me to keep you warm?” _

This time Felix rolls his eyes.

Sylvain’s tongue clicks eerily close to the shell of his ear. His hands wrap around his waist, dragging up the front of his shirt to dip beneath its deep cut. Warm against his cool skin, it makes him shiver. Breath runs hot against his ear and his chin rests in the crook of Felix’s neck.

“Felix,” He coos again. Felix is unused to being the target of flirtations. Not that they haven’t happened, but most admirers didn’t last long under Felix’s steely demeanor- more concerned with losing an appendage than getting their dick wet.

Sylvain has never had that kind of self-preservation.

He hums, body pressed flush to the lines of Felix’s back. It’s obvious what he’s doing., The suggestion that is only as annoying as it isn’t unwanted.

“Felix-“ He moans against him, breathy, electric. It makes his shoulders go stiff as he grinds up against his lower back. Sylvain’s touch dares dangerously low. Felix squirms against his chest. “Tell me that display out there didn’t get you hard.”

“You insuff-“ Felix’s complaint is cut off with a gasp sucked deep between clenched teeth when Sylvain rubs him through his pants, teasing the outline of his half hard cock. Realizing that he is, in fact, right.

“You were saying?”

“Cheap trick.” His head rolls. He chews his lip. Felix sighs. It’s his final concession. “Come on, you fool.”

Sylvain couldn’t be more pleased as he lets himself be dragged by Felix’s arm. They pass the threshold of Felix’s familiar home.

“Finally got you hot and bothered, huh?”

“Don’t’ get ahead of yourself.”

“I’m fine with taking my time.” His hand pushes against his bared chest, and he falls back.

Felix never paid much mind to it before, but Sylvain is incredibly strong. Shoulders broader than years before, his arms flex thick beneath sleeves that are clearly too small. He’s not been idle in their time of peace. Then again, Gautier territory has rarely known peacetime.

He steals a kiss. Short, tempered. It leaves Felix wanting more. He tries to chase it. Urging himself closer to Sylvain’s height, but his palms settle on the tops of his thighs preventing him from moving.

“You know,” Sylvain drawls, touch wandering the inseam of his thighs. They settle on the top of his boot, twisting in the laces along the side. He pulls the cord loose at a tantalizing speed. Felix doesn’t understand- why he’s wasting so much time when they only have so much of it.

Not until his knees hit the floor. Sylvain smirks up at him with that damned handsome face and says, “You’re not the only one good with his mouth.”

Sylvain pulls the length of his thigh highs from his legs with a cocky grin. Felix bites his lip, staring down at his friend incredulously.

“You’re going to ruin my costume.” He mutters distracted by the dance of his fingertips ever closer to his cock.

“Hm. I’ll commission a new one. Dress you in black and red.”

The colors of House Gautier.

“_Sylvain_!”

“Sh.” He blows the air through pursed lips. “I’ll make it up to you.” He says. It’s not coy at all. How close he is to his dick, which has gotten too hard, too quick. Goddess, he feels like a fucking repressed teenager again.

At least, Sylvain doesn’t make fun of him for it.

He’s interested, intrigued. Unabashed, when he mouths the tent in his pants. Saliva dripping staining them wet. His teeth pull at the buttons, hands sliding up the front drawing tension along his length. Felix moans, eyes squeezed shut.

He can still see it in the darkness. Sylvain’s stupid, handsome face. Cheeks flushed and eyes bearing an intensity he always wanted focused on him. Dammit. Is he going to get a boner every time he wears this costume now? Leonie will kill him, he’s sure.

A hiss is wrenched from the back of his throat when Sylvain finally touches skin. His hand fists the length of his cock. It’s the soft draw of lips along the heated skin that make his eyes shoot open with a jerk.

Sylvain chuckles, casually stroking him through conversation. “Excited, aren’t you? Been a while?”

“What do you think?”

“That you aren’t the type to let anyone close. You might let off steam occasionally. But not the way you truly need.”

His nails dig into his palm fisted in the sheets.

Vulnerability. It’s a difficult thing to wear.

Easier with Sylvain. The man has seen him at his worst. Broken as a child, bloodied by war, now a performer in peace. He can’t say the latter doesn’t leave him wanting. His skill though used is left dulling like an old blade.

His tongue swipes the flushed head of his erection, filled out against Sylvain’s long fingers.

“Don’t worry.” He says. It’s low. Felix barely hears it. “I know what you need.”

The wet heat of Sylvain’s mouth takes him down. It’s not slow or tentative, but committed and desperate, taking him to the base until his nose brushes the hair below his navel.

He swallows. His throat constricts around the head of his cock. Felix bites back a sound, chin jutting to the air with his head thrown back.

“Ah, Sylvain. Fuck-“ He mutters, cloyingly incoherent. Felix jerks against the heat of his mouth. Tongue wrapped around him sucking deeply. His head bobs and Felix’s hand rests on the crown of his messy red hair.

Gold eyes shift to him, heavy under arousal. Sylvain pulls off licking the slick of spit and cum from his lips. His thumb strokes Felix’s inner thigh, surprisingly tender.

“It’s okay,” Sylvain rasps in a breath. “If you want to use me. I’m here for you.”

Felix is silent, but his dick twitches. Its answer enough.

Sylvain bites down a chuckle that comes a little hoarse from his fucked throat.

Offer taken. His grip tightens in Sylvain’s hair to urge him back down. He does so, readily. His tongue flashes pink licking at the tip before allowing himself to be pushed down.

He can’t get enough of it. It’s been a long time sure. Longer still since he’s let his guard down enough to actually enjoy it rather than worrying of being robbed or stabbed in the back.

Sylvain was right for once

He pants. Sylvain’s lips stretch around the width of his cock, taking every thrust he gives. He whines a desperate, needy sound that sends a tremor of pleasure down his spine.

“Syl-“ He chokes on his name. His hands move down his face, thumbing his cheeks and the sweat that beads there. Without thinking, he moves his foot, pressing it to the front of his pants.

Sylvain’s gaze shoots to him beneath the haze of his lashes. Felix strokes his dick strained within his pants. Sylvain groans around him. Hips rock, grinding himself slowly against the arch of Felix’s foot. His hand tugs again, pulling red hair tight, dragging him to the side. Spit pools from Sylvain’s mouth at the new angle and there’s the sharp draw of teeth against his length.

It’s a sensation he revels, preferring to teeter closer to danger.

His fist tears in Sylvain’s hair, rutting with a stutter of his hips. There’s a low noise strangled in the back of Sylvain’s throat. Of surprise, of struggle, when he cums hot in his mouth. Felix keens, hunching over himself hand falling from Sylvain. Sylvain supports him, keeping him steady through his orgasm and despite the effort as he takes it all down.

Felix groans, pushing Sylvain off his cock wetly. His mouth red, swollen, pupils blown wide. Eager, entranced.

“Fe-“ The raw edge to his voice could almost make him come a second time.

“Shh.” This time he’s the one that coos softly. Dangerously fondly, if only Sylvain knew.

He drops to Sylvain’s lap, settling between his legs where he’s nearly made a mess of his pants dripping precum tacky between his fingers when Felix slips his palm around him.

“Still good with swords, I see. Hah-“ Sylvain whispers the joke into his collar out of breath. What’s left of it hitches, and he buries his face further into the crook of his neck.

It doesn’t take much to make him cum. It drips warm between Felix’s fingers after a few strokes, and Sylvain butts his forehead against his.

“Come north with me. Please.” Sylvain whispers in a hushed tone. Felix’s brow furrows deep. It’d been so easy to say no before but- Sylvain’s mouth pulls to a grin. “Be my sexy court jester.”

Never mind.

Felix elbows him in the ribs. Entirely guilt free. “Ow, Felix!” Sylvain complains. “It was a compliment.”

“Don’t ruin this.”

“_But imagine-“_

Felix shushes him in the kindest, least violent way possible. His finger draws to Sylvain’s surprised lips. His glare is danger enough. “Sylvain if you do not shut your mouth, I will destroy you.”

Sylvain laughs, grabbing his wrist to press a kiss to his finger. Felix blushes, despite the fact this man just had his dick down his throat.

Sylvain winks, insatiable as always.

“Try not to make it sound so hot. I might get the wrong idea.”


End file.
